


✨Danger Zone✨

by Anonymous



Category: DC Extended Universe RPF, Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Half high now so I fixed it :D, Idk what I'm doing anymore lol, Recreational Drug Use, They're all legal age in this fic, Tommy & Tubbo are bros, When I originally wrote this I was super high, a dc au of sorts, i think this is hilarious, theyre fine, tommy is old enough to live alone, tommyinnit is a little shit
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-18
Updated: 2020-10-18
Packaged: 2021-03-09 02:55:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,170
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27077605
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: Idk how I should say dc super hero au for mcyt with drugs without saying that so imma leave it there.
Relationships: Toby Smith | Tubbo & TommyInnit
Comments: 10
Kudos: 96
Collections: Anonymous





	✨Danger Zone✨

**Author's Note:**

> I was originally writing a doc super hero au thingie but then I thought, drugs? Yes. So now we have Stoner Red Robin Tommy ft the fam finding out and Tubbo being a mess. 
> 
> Anyway a little key to keep you from being confused:  
> Seen characters:  
> Phil- Batman  
> Techno- Red Hood  
> Wilbur- Nightwing  
> Tommy- Red Robin  
> Tubbo- Superboy  
> Mentioned characters:  
> Captain Sparklez- Superman  
> Karl- Beast Boy  
> Quackity- Blue Beetle  
> Purpled- Impulse

They’d just smoked out the bathroom to the point where visibility was roughly halved when his phone vibrated in his pocket.

Tubbo looked at him, one eyebrow raised, and Tommy shrugged, feeling way too loose for his own good. Digging through his pocket for the thing, he almost had a fucking heart attack when he saw Wilbur's text.

‘We’re coming over to get last night’s patrol info that u said u had logged. Turns out the Marconi gang is doing a little more than gun running lol’

He was fucked.

Okay wait no that was just the weed speaking. He’d be able to handle this.

“Dude, what happened?” Tubbo asked, his thin ass shoulders trembling with the effort it took to keep from coughing. Despite the situation not being funny at all (it was pretty bad actually) he grinned.

“Wilbur's coming over for something. I’m gonna call ‘em and see if I can convince them to take an email instead.” And Tubbo's eyes widened to the point he was worried about them like, uh, splitting or something. Could eyelids do that? Probably, they were thin as shit. “Don’t worry dude it’ll be okay, just be quiet while I call.”

“Wait, not in here-“ Too late dude, you snooze you lose.

Wilbur picked up his call on the first ring and when he spoke, the realization of just how hard it was going to be to act Not High hit him. “Hey Innit Child! Did you call about the patrol info?” Straight to the point. Shit.

“Yes.” He said. Y’know, all suave and sober-like.

Tubbo was shaking, this time from trying to stifle his laughter.

He had to elaborate, he had to. Wilbur was going to catch on. “I’m a little busy right now, do you think you can take an email?” And the man, the man who’d been his Batman, laughed into the receiver.

“No can-do, we gotta get the info like, now or else we’ll lose a lead. Also you tend to leave like, half the information out of reports because you don’t deem it important enough to include, so there’s that we have to account for.” Shit, shit, shit.

“Who is ‘we’?”

He leaned against the sink, butt pressing against the countertop, and ignored the way Tubbo was trembling in an attempt to hide his laughter and keep his presence unknown.

Wilbur sounded amused through the phone and Tommy could hear the smile in his voice when he spoke. “Me, Techno, and Phil are on our way over there. We should only be like, five minutes away.”

Oh God oh shit oh fuck-

“Sounds good, I’ll get out the hors d’oeuvres and sparkling water.” And Wilbur laughed like a dick.

He went ahead and hung up without warning him, shoving his phone back into his pocket and ignoring Tubbo's “dude.”

“Tubbo, I have to get the box fan from my room so I can air out the living room.” And he must’ve sounded half as panicked as he felt because Tubbo straightened, looking as scared as a high-off-his-ass clone of Captain Sparklez was physically capable of. “Then I’m going to get candles. You’re going to stay in here and not smoke anything else until I come back in, okay?” He got a quick nod and eyed the look Tubbo shot towards his bong (which was neon blue with a series of stickers representing "da squad" (a set of red wings, a bee, a McDonald's M, a purple "purple" sticker with a "D" scribbled in sharpie next to it, and a hufflepuff crest) on the side because Quackity was a prick). That was a dangerous look, but Tommy didn’t have any time to reiterate how important it was that Tubbo not light any more of his shit because his sense of time always got fucked up whenever he was high and he was fairly certain that he’d already been staring at Tubbo, in silence, for a solid minute.

Shaking himself, he forced his body to move. Squeezing out of the bathroom without letting like, half the smoke out took effort but damn if he wasn’t efficient. It took him only a few seconds to rip off his shirt and throw on a new one and only a few more seconds to find the damn fan.

He almost tripped over himself in his attempt to run into the living room but managed to throw open his windows and turn the fan to its maximum setting without too much pain.

Not burning himself on the candles took a little bit more effort but when he was able to smell lemon zest and citron stardust, he knew he was in the clear.

Now, Tubbo screaming “Tommy!” from the bathroom almost made him spill half-melted wax on himself. Which, y’know, was an exhilarating experience. He crashed back into the bathroom, managing to not get any more smoke out because yeah, he was a badass.

“What!? What happened?” He hissed, eyes stinging when the smoke irritated them again.

Tubbo looked panicked and was in the process of digging through his bathroom drawers. “Dude, I forgot to tell you, your eyes are so fucking red. Do you have eyedrops?” Shit.

“No,” He ran a hand through his hair, hoping it wasn’t too messy. He tried to think fast because knowing his luck, Phil was already at his damn door. “I’ll just wear a domino, it’ll be fine.” Actually that could work perfectly. He’d probably be able to guilt trip them into leaving faster if they thought that he was tired after a patrol and had yet to even take off his domino.

Tubbo nodded, relief evident in the way his shoulders slumped. “Thank fuck dude, thank fuck.” He could say that again because Jesus, that was almost terrible.

He pulled one of the extra dominos that he stored underneath the sink out and stuck it to his face, painstakingly making sure there weren’t any wrinkles because this had to go as smoothly as possible or else they were going to see right through him. For fuck’s sake, they were crime fighters that dealt with people high off their asses on a daily basis. He had to be super fucking careful here or else his ass was toast.

He’d just straightened the domino for the seventh time (he had to be sure, okay?) when his sixth sense went fucking nuts. Tubbo ushered him back out the door and he had to do the little anti-smoke door trick think again and he was barely halfway down the hall when Wilbur's voice rang clear through his living room.

“Toms, you know you shouldn’t leave your windows open.”

The time to act as Not High as humanly possible was a go.

“The AC unit stopped working so I had to overcompensate.” Perfect. Stunning. He could do this.

Wilbur grinned, the corners of his own domino crinkling up at the movement. He could do this, he definitely could. The older man moved to ruffle his hair and he gave the appropriate grumbles, looking over at the window when the rest of the peanut gallery clambered on in.

He could tell that Techno was eyeing the candles on his counter and he was relieved when the man chose not to question it.

Honestly, if he was being really honest here, he had no idea if the place smelled like weed. He’d gone, what? Nose-blind? Yeah, that thing.

The Batman himself was halfway through debriefing him on what they needed the information for when Tommy could literally feel the instant that the last bong refill him and Tubbo had ripped together finally hit.

Hmm, this was bad.

Very bad.

He couldn’t fucking do this.

He hummed, trying to reassure them that he did, in fact, understand what they were talking about. (He didn’t)

The room was quiet for a few seconds and the realization that they were probably waiting for some sort of answer hit him and he had to try very very hard not to laugh. He was, in the purest sense of the phrase, in danger. “Yeah, I understand.” That was vague enough to get him through the conversation.

He got three simultaneous looks of confusion. Wilbur put a hand on his shoulder and Tommy looked over at him, trying to be as engaged as possible. “Tommy, Phil asked how you were coming along on the 85th street gang files.”

Shit.

“Sorry, sleep dep is finally getting around to kicking my ass.” Hell yeah he could do this! “85th street gang is all filed and accounted for, Marconi is too, I can give you the electronic copies right now.”

Wilbur nodded, nudging Techno who was definitely giving him a hard look underneath his helmet. “Great! Can you get us paper copies too? Only one and then we’ll get out of your hair.” Oh my God, he could actually probably get away with this.

Wait, he shouldn’t jinx himself.

He… wasn’t going to get away with this.

Nice.

Repressing the sudden, urgent need to laugh because this situation was the sort of thing that people probably had nightmares about, he started towards his computer setup. He slumped in the computer seat, wiggling the computer mouse to get it started up, and began typing in the password.

When he clicked enter it blinked and he stared at the login screen again, the password having been rejected.

No way, he totally typed in the right password.

He deleted the entire thing and tried over again, clicking enter and blinking when the password was denied again. Okay wait. He deleted it again, this time taking care to type it in as slowly as possible. When it was denied for the third time he just stared at the screen.

How high am I right now?

“This computer is wiggedy-widdedy wack,” he mumbled under his breath, mostly to himself, as he squinted at the screen and tried to figure out what the fuck was wrong. Wilbur laughed from where he stood behind him and he was fairly certain that Phil was the one that sighed.

Techno coughed, the sound was deep and startling and he twitched, looking up at the guy who’d long since taken off his helmet. “You’re on caps lock.” Haha, oh shit.

“Oops,” he muttered, deleting the password and turning caps lock off before trying again, this time successful in getting into his computer. Now he just had to navigate through his folders, which, if he was careful, wouldn’t be too hard. Carefully (he wasn’t out of the danger zone yet) he managed to get up both files and sent them to the right printer (triple checking just in case) and he let himself breathe when his printer rattled to life.

The chhk chhk chhk sound was like music to his ears.

“Finally. I have no idea what is wrong with you tonight Tommy, but your reaction time is even slower than usual.” Techno felt the need to be a little dicky and Tommy just snorted because this fuckin guy, man.

Phil was the one to move over and grab the forms from his printer, passing them to him and it took him a few seconds before he made the connection that oh, he wanted them stapled. Whatever, he handed them back over once he’d done it and Techno gave him a firm look.

Aw man.

“Can you put the electronic copies on this drive?” And Tommy nodded dumbly, accepting the little flash drive without flourish and popping it into his computer.

It only took a few seconds to do and he was relieved that this was finally over.

He stood when the transfer was finished, drawing himself up to his full height and passing the drive over to Phil who accepted it with a throaty hmm.

“Alright, well, here’s all the information I’ve got on the groups you wanted. Sorry to have to kick you guys out now.” Haha, he wasn’t sorry, he was a liar.

Wilbur made a sound halfway between a laugh and an uncomfortable grunt. “Tommy, you still need to fill us in on the missing bits.” A pause. “Are you feeling alright?” Well, he was doing fine until he realized that he’d need to actually be able to recall things in acute detail. Okay well, before now he was just being pessimistic and stressed out because of how high he was, saying that he couldn’t do it because of that. Right now, in this situation, he honestly couldn’t do it.

Real talk, if he tried to tell them something and it was wrong, it would probably hurt people.

He had to tell Phil.

Fingers snapped right in front of his face, loudly, and he startled, jumping a little bit. Techno waved a hand in front of his face, eyebrows furrowing like he was trying to figure out what the fuck was going on. “You spaced out again, the hell is wrong with you?” Beep beep beep, honesty time.

“Phil I have a secret to tell you.”

Someone let out a strangled sound and Tommy powered on, looking Phil dead on and staring into his white-out cowl. He lowered his voice, trying to whisper because man, this was secretive. He was doing illicit activities. (Illicit in a majority of states, at least. Hell yeah for legal California/Gotham weed.) “If I tell you, you have to promise not to tell, okay?” The man stared him down and if Tommy wasn’t as good at reading Phil's body language when he was in the Batman suit as he was, he would’ve bolted. “Okay, okay.” He breathed in deeply, letting it out in a rush. Hopefully his dad wasn’t going to get pissed.

“I’m so fucking high right now, I’m not going to be able to recall any meaningful detail.”

And his apartment was utterly silent, save for the sound of his box fan.

Wilbur broke the silence by cackling, loud and hard, having to wrap one arm around his middle and press the other one against the wall to brace himself. “I fucking knew it!” Harsh.

“My God, Tommy,” Techno sounded vaguely disappointed but started laughing uncontrollably with Wilbur as Tommy focused on the way Phil just closed his eyes and sighed.

“So you are impaired.” And it wasn’t a question.

He shrugged, and Phil began with another sigh, looking far older than he had five minutes ago. “Are you staying safe?” Aw, his dad cared.

“Yeah, me and-“ oh fuck. Tubbo. Something must’ve crossed his face because everyone straightened. “Oh, oh my God.” They hotboxed the absolute shit out of that bathroom and Tubbo had been sitting in there this entire time, breathing that shit in. And he’d already been high as fuck when they started on the last round.

“What’s wrong.” Phil was almost growling underneath his cowl and it was more of a demand than a question.

He ignored it, yelling instead. “You can get out of the bathroom Tubbo, it’s okay!”

Wilbur howled. Tommy snorted despite himself and he didn’t bother to hide the laughter that bubbled up inside of him when the bathroom door opened and a rush of smoke swept through the hallway. Fucking Tubbo, of course he lit it up again, why did he even try to tell him otherwise?

He snorted as he tried to look through the fog for his friend.

Tubbo's smaller figure appeared in the doorway of the bathroom and Tommy grinned, watching the way the dude had to hold onto the wall so he wouldn’t fall down. The guy was hacking, sounding like he was coughing up a lung, and Tommy moved forward to help him out. He ended up having to support most of the guy’s weight, the two of them stumbling past the bats as he eased Tubbo into the living room.

He ended up unceremoniously flopping him onto the sofa, but realistically speaking, what else could he do?

The weed smell was so strong now, even to him, and he had to wonder what the bats thought of it.

“Did you fucking hotbox the bathroom?” Wilbur sounded near tears and Tommy blinked, trying to steady himself when he realized he was swaying a little bit.

“Yeah, it took forty minutes.” Even Phil, the guy having sounded a little disappointed ever since he found out why Tommy was acting like a degenerate fuck, snorted.

Tubbo groaned where he was laying on the sofa and Tommy could literally smell how the weed smoke had stuck to the fabric of his t-shirt. Tubbo was fucked, completely and utterly fucked. Phil looked like he wanted to say something but Tubbo interrupted him, his throat sounding destroyed when he spoke. “Tommy, help.” A pause. “I can’t feel my toes, something’s wrong.”

Tommy was fairly certain that a tear was on Wilbur's cheek, but now wasn’t the time to be distracted by that. “It’s your fault for lighting up again, I told you not to.” Is what he would’ve said if his tongue listened to him and didn’t fuck up halfway through his sentence, making his words sound a little gibberish-y. Irritated but not too irritated because everything was still pretty funny, he smacked his lips a few times, trying to get his mouth to work right again. Ah shit, he had cottonmouth.

“You’re so fucking high,” Wilbur spoke up, his voice still full of laughter and a little wheezy and Tommy felt a smile melt over his face. He leaned down to swat lightly at Wilbur bicep, snorting.

“Hush up, at least I’m not Tubbo.” Tubbo felt the need to groan after he said that.

Phil was silently disapproving up until now, he broke his silence with a question. “How many times a week do you do this, Tommy?” They’ve officially entered another ✨Danger Zone✨ and from where he was slumped on the couch, Tubbo groaned.

He had to count on his fingers to be able to answer the question, okay? Sue him. It took him a couple seconds but three seemed like a good number. A good solid descriptor. “Three times a week, around.” Honestly it wasn’t that bad, he’d been worse before, but with how everyone reacted, it was like he’d admitted to curb stomping some puppies.

Techno looked like he was going to say something to that, but Tubbo interrupted another member of the bat-fam, sounding more clear than he’d had in a while. “Remember that one time we were trappin’ for two weeks straight?” How could Tommy forget that? It was absolutely wild, he’d gotten a tattoo of a coke can on his ankle a few days into it. The best part had to have been when they’d funnel-fed Purpled some edibles until he couldn’t stand, that was still one of the funniest things that Tommy'd ever seen.

“That doesn’t count, it was an outlier.” Tubbo grunted when Tommy said that, sounding annoyed.

Wilbur cackled. “I can’t believe you wouldn’t invite me to the titans trap house, that’s unforgivable.” Tommy shrugged, his arms not really feeling attached to his body.

“Consider this your invite, then. I can shoot you a text whenever.” Tommy could feel the disapproving looks but haha, it was legal for recreational use in SanFran, suck on that.

“You’re not allowed to patrol while high.” Phil said, setting his foot down on the while situation, and Tommy nodded. He didn’t have to know about all the times he’d already popped up on patrol while being high off his ass. That information was sacred. He had a feeling that Techno was giving him a look and yeah, no, he totally was.

“You’ve already patrolled while high, haven’t you?” Techno asked, sounding tired. On the other hand, he looked absolutely affronted, like the idea of being “inebriated” while participating in a sacred event such as patrolling was enough to have him clutching his pearls to his chest and swooning like an old school Hollywood actress.

“Oh yeah,” Tommy admitted easily, a lazy smile settling onto his face. Okay the information wasn’t that sacred. “So many times, my bad.”

Techno was looking a little more red than was probably good for him and Wilbur wheezed, sounding weak all over again. “Tommy's the family pothead, I can’t fucking believe it.” That was fair, he couldn’t argue with that.

Tubbo groaned and Tommy looked over, his friend sitting up on the sofa and looking a lot less like he’d been dragged through the mud. “I’m turning on the tunes, you guys are, like, totally boring. You’re cramping me n’ Tommy's style with this shit.” Every time Tubbo regressed to his valley-girl speak when they smoked together, Tommy felt like there actually was some sort of deity out there looking over them. It was a blessing.

Even though the cowl covered most of his face, Phil looked tired.

“I’m not crampin’ your style.” Wilbur said, sitting up in his seat as Tubbo shuffled to the stereo system that Tommy'd splurged on a while ago. “Lemme get a hit of whatever the hell you two were using and it’ll be a party.”

The two smarties made offended noises and Tommy grinned, digging around in his sweatshirt pocket. “We had a bong for the hotbox but I’ll do you one better.” He pulled out his dab pen and watched Wilbur's eyes glitter with a special sort of mischief that only came from pissing off the TechnoBlade. Tommy tossed it over and Wilbur was able to catch it despite Techno's attempt at swatting it out of his hands. Wilbur didn’t waste any time, putting the pen up to his mouth and pressing the button before taking an immense inhale. Tommy whistled, impressed.

“Wilbur!” Techno hissed, his eyes narrowing to an almost comical level behind his domino lenses.

Wilbur managed to hold it in for a few seconds before coughing a massive cloud out, almost gagging as the smoke left him and Tommy couldn’t even blame him. Pens fucking hurt if you didn’t use them regularly.

“You’re not finishing the patrol,” Batman growled and, with perfect comedic timing, some Minecraft Parody began blaring from the speaker system. Tubbo looked so fucking proud of himself for figuring it out and Tommy wheezed, having to lean against one of the chairs for support.

Jordan Maron was loud and proud as Kingdom Fall blasted through the living room and Tubbo, in perfect High Tubbo action, swayed over to the fridge, his light hip swaying distracting Tommy for a solid moment before he snapped back to Phil's attention. 

Phil gave him (Thomas Innit-Za) a look like he was pleading with him, like he was trying to forge a connection with him and beg him to stop being an asshat via telepathy. Phil looked like a dad. Like such a dad. Just so dad it was fucking preposterous.

Tommy was so high he could feel the room. Just, just the entire room. He could feel it.

He looked over at where Wilbur had sat and snorted when he saw the guy resting his head in the palms of his hands, his elbows propped up on his knees. The dab pen was hitting hard, apparently, hopefully he wouldn’t throw up on Tommy's floor, that was nasty.

“Wilbur, are you okay?” He asked.

“Guh.” Wilbur said in response.

Well, it was better than nothing.

Tubbo, at that very instant, groaned from where he stood at the fridge, sounding like an absolute catastrophe was happening right here right now. “Tommy!” He said, reaching into the fridge and pulling something out. Tubbo whirled and threw that very something at him and it bounced lightly off Tommy’s chest before he could think to grab it. “Tommy there was only some fuck ass bagged spinach in the fridge!” Yeah, that was totally an unopened bag of spinach on the floor. Huh. He did need to stop for groceries, didn’t he?

“You think I know how to shop for myself?” He challenged, leaning down (carefully, this required careful planning) to grab the bag of spinach off the floor.

It looked good, not expired, and he gently tossed it back to Tubbo, who actually managed to catch it. “Eat your veggies Tubbo. You’re a big boy, big big boy. Eat the big boy spinach, big boy Tubbo.” Someone (probably one of the two smarties, the sober fucks, the duo of dudes) sighed loudly as he went on his tirade but Tubbo opened the bag, looking put-out as he reached for a few of the leaves.

He actually was going to eat it. The absolute mad man. Quackity, Karl, and Purpled are going to lose their shit when Tommy tells them about this.

Speaking of Karl, Tubbo was whining about him now as he moved back into the living room, a handful of spinach leaves halfway up to his mouth. “We should’ve invited Karl, he always remembers to get food before we smoke. This shit sucks Tommy, seriously what the fuck? Like, like spinach totally sucks man, like seriously?” Tubbo sat down heavily next to where Wilbur was trying to compartmentalize himself, completely unaware of the whole “personal space” thing. The spinach was in his mouth now too but Tubbo powered on. “Can we like, call Uber eats or somethin’? My style is cramped dude, so cramped it’s dyin’, I’m dyin’ here Toms and it’s totally the spinach’s fault.”

“Like, totally.” Tommy grinned when Tubbo nodded enthusiastically, not realizing that he was teasing him.

Techno coughed, looking more uncomfortable in the Red Hood uniform than Tommy had ever seen before. Phil was utterly silent where he was standing.

Tubbo straightened when Techno made the sound, looking irritated as he gestured widely towards the intruders (sans Wilbur, who still didn’t have his shit together). “When are they leaving!?” Bold, that was bold Tubbo. “Toms, we had plans!” ‘Plans’ was a strong word to describe what they’d intended on doing.

“Yeah, plans.” Tommy agreed with Tubbo though, having to side with his bro.

‘Bro’ was also a strong word to describe Tubbo, but it was whatever.

“What plans could we have possibly interrupted by appearing?” Techno said it with a small sneer and oh shit, Tubbo was going to blindside the poor man.

Tubbo sat up straighter, the spinach forgotten, and that was Tommy's cue to stand up and go grab Wilbur a trash can just so he’d have something to distract him from the embarrassment that was probably going to cripple him in mere moments. “Listen, bats,” Tubbo began, more serious than he’d been before. The fact that Mxmtoon was now playing through the stereo system was absolutely pristine. Really, it was just the cherry on top. “Me ’n Toms, we’re like this.” He chanced a look and was relieved when Tubbo just did the thing where his middle finger crossed over his pointer finger, the two of them close.

Phil looked morbidly curious and Tommy pulled over the small black trashcan he’d bought from Target and set it in front of Wilbur. Wilbur was staring hard at the floor and Tommy was willing to bet that the guy had no idea just how much time had passed since he’d first ripped off the pen. 

"I..." Wilbur attempted speech, but ended up with gibbered nonsense that was some how a total mood and a disgrace to society at the same time. 

“You can chill bro, you can chill. That’s uncool man, totes uncool.” Tubbo laughed when he said that and Tommy blinked. Oh yeah, it was ‘bout that time that he started talkin’ the ‘90s Teen Nick/faux skater boy talk.

“Can we leave?” Techno threw his hands up in the air, the blush from his cheeks having migrated to the tips of his ears at this point. “There is still gang activity that must be dealt with and we have wasted an hour here.” A hour?

“An hour?” Tommy repeated, unable to keep the skepticism out of his voice.

Phil spoke up after a long while of radio silence. “Over an hour, Tommy.”

Huh. He would’ve guessed that it’d been like, thirty minutes max. “Seriously?” He had to ask again and Techno snapped, sounding angry.

“You spent fifteen minutes figuring out how the computer worked, you absolute disgrace to the Robin uniform.”

Wilbur came back to life when he heard that, lifting his head up and Tommy had to fight not to giggle at the red marks that his hands had left on his forehead. “He may be a disgrace, but his weed is top fucking tier.” Epic.

Techno leveled him with a cold gaze that was completely fucking ruined by the fact the guy looked like a strawberry, pink hair not helping. He should probably stop messing with him. “Why do you call me a disgwace? It hurts my feewings.” The uwu-speak left him before he could stop it and Techno gave him one more look before actually starting to leave out the window. It looked like that was the last straw.

Phil, after giving him another long-suffering look, gathered up the papers he’d worked hard to print out. “Thanks for the files Tommy. Don’t think this conversation’s over, though.” Oh, Tommy knew that it wasn’t. He was anticipating a complete shit storm tomorrow and he’d already absentmindedly started to weigh the odds of him being noticed if he showed up to that meeting high. Dealing with it sober was going to be a nightmare.

At this point, Wilbur was staring dead-eyed at the T.V. (which wasn’t playing anything) and Tubbo was halfway through the bag of spinach. Marina was an absolute angel of a woman and she was singing in the background while everything kept chugging along.

Phil forced him to maintain eye contact for what felt like a few uncomfortable minutes before the man shook his head, turning towards the window that Tommy forced himself to remember to close. Before he left, Phil gave him one last look over his shoulder. “If Wilbur smokes with you again, I don’t want to hear about it.” And if Tommy was sober, he would’ve choked. Right now though, he nodded and waved the man out, closing the window behind him.

Once that nightmare was over he glanced over at Tubbo, who was now looking at him with intention and Tommy had to remind himself that Wilbur was still here and their original plans had to now be adjusted.

This shit sucked, why’d he let the guy use his dab pen again?

Whatever. First things first, he had to order something from Uber eats or Tubbo was going to actually lose his shit if Tommy didn’t get him anything to eat other than spinach. After that though, he could figure out what the hell their next move was because right now Tommy was feeling disoriented and curious as to whether or not the last hour had actually happened.

"Da squad" are going to cry when Tommy tells them what happened tonight, like, actual tears.

At least that was a conversation that he’d be able to look forward to.


End file.
